Whisper
by Preussan
Summary: What happens when Lithuania is allowed into Natalia's home?


**Whisper**

Toris walked in the platinum snow, solemn feet finding their way to the only place he could go. With his luck, she would reject him once again; turn him away to face the cold alone. He was often told by other nations to simply give up: She wasn't worth the trouble, the pain, the depression. They just didn't know her the way he did. They didn't live with her as long as he did. He'd always loved her, ever since she'd been born. He'd always wanted to protect her, keep her safe from those who could hurt her. He was just too late: Russia had already made an impressive impact on her life. Maybe it was his fault that she'd felt such obsession over her big brother. He'd taken her away from the only thing close to a father figure in her life, and she ended up hating him for it. Maybe she ended up viewing him as a normal man rather than a brother? Perhaps she only called him her brother because people told her that that was who he was to her.

As these thoughts passed through his head, Toris hardly noticed the adoring glances he received from other women, walking in the snow to work or home from it, or maybe looking for a night-time fling. He was only interested in Natalia. She was cold, heartless, and cruel, and in love with her big brother, Ivan Braginsky. Ivan had been in control of Natalia, his older sister Katyusha, Toris, and his brothers. Until, of course, they all left. Belarus was the last to declare independence, and yet she wished to be one with her brother. He knocked on a wooden door, dark mocha brown, with a golden eye-hole to spy whoever was there. (Though she was too short to use it.) He heard the three locks on her door unlock, and it opened just a creak. A single blue-violet eye stared at him, silver-blonde bangs brushing her forehead. They stood for a moment, staring at each other.  
"Hi, Natal-"

"No." The door slammed in his face, causing him to wince. He couldn't believe she'd been so quick to reject him! And he hadn't even told her why he was there! He sighed, turning on his heel to leave, when a sudden amount of voices caused him to turn back in curiosity. The door opened, revealing a young boy, blonde hair, blue eyes, and a sailor suit. He spoke in an odd accent, one Toris couldn't place. He looked at the boy in confusion.

"Nattttt! Let 'im stay, let 'im stay! He looks all cold!" The boy cried, grabbing onto Natalia's hand and dragging her out into the snow storm brewing. She sighed, a frown gracing her pale pink lips, and she nodded her head at Toris. Was he ever more thankful to a person, he wasn't sure, but he would be spending this storm with his beloved Belarus. He walked inside, taking his shoes off at the door and slipping out of the damp coat. The young boy watched him quietly, sitting on the couch with a mug of whatever it was Natalia had made for him. Toris sat down by him awkwardly, for this was the first time he'd ever been inside Belarus' home, and he wanted to take it all in as best he could. The walls were a light, pale beige, with mocha trim and a dark chocolate Victorian design. He could hear her in the kitchen, pots and pans clanging together as she sang an old lullaby. He listened, focused on her singing, trying to understand the words.

"_Left his princess in the night_

_She waited for thirty years_

_He never came back_

_He never came home_

_And the princess died of spite._

_She-" _

Toris was delighted! The lullaby she was singing was something he had sang to her when he first occupied her as the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. She had remembered it well, the tone and beat perfect, along with how he changed his voice for the character's, too. He sat, staring, at the kitchen doorway, happy that Natalia had remembered something from his home.

The little boy was watching the big man, wondering what he was doing. He'd come to mama Natalia's house, and looked so desperate that he let the man in! Even though Mama Natalia did shut the door in his face.

_I should have taken that as a warning._ He thought, throwing a pillow at him while he stared after Mama Natalia. The man flinched, possibly thinking it were a fist rather than a pillow, before turning to look at the little boy. He wasn't angry, but he looked a bit dejected.

"You were staring after her…" The boy said, a bit curious on the man's interest in his Mama Natalia. "I-I was?" Now, this man was surely stupid! He's as bad as Mama Natalia, when she would stare at the white noise on the TV for three hours! He threw a second pillow at the man, who laughed a bit hesitantly before catching it.

"Dinner is done." The sentence was simple, emotionless, and a bit cold, but Toris was used to worse. Usually, she would have said "Not for you, Toris." Or something of the sort. She probably just assumed he knew better. He stayed on the couch as the little boy jumped and ran to Natalia, the smell of whatever she made wafting into the living room. He sat, smiling, looking at the photos on the fireplace. Many were of her, Ukraine, and Russia, Ivan in the middle and Natalia to the right, Katyusha to the left. There were three or four turned from him, though. _I wonder what those are photos of?_ He stood, walking to the mantel, his eyes focused on one of the photos he had overlooked. He stared at it for a moment, confused. He saw a very, _very_ old photo of Natalia and him, Natalia in traditional Lithuanian clothing, he in his armor. He had a single arm wrapped around her, a small smile on his face, while she held onto his arm, a bit closer than he had probably thought, so much her hair was tipping over onto his shoulder. There was a hint of a smile, one he'd never noticed until now. _How has she kept these photos? Ivan burned them all when he…_

"Toris. I said dinner is done." The girl's voice made him jump, and he turned to look at her. She noticed the photo in his hand, and walked over, taking it from him gently. He expected her to slap him, break his fingers, or threaten him. She wiped the fingerprints off with her apron, before setting it back in its original place. Turning on her heel, she looked over her shoulder.

"Are you going to eat, or shall I feed it to the child?"

"Toris, come. I'll show you to your room until this storm ends…" Toris did as he was told, following at a distance as Natalia walked through the hallways of her home. To say that it was big was an understatement. He had no idea why she had a house this large, but there were at least enough rooms for the Union to live in, plus some. She stopped, opened a wooden door, and stepped inside.

"I put some of the old clothes from the Union in the dresser. The bathroom is down the hall three doors." He looked at the room, the walls a faded sunny green, an off-white trimming the floors, ceiling, and frames, the linen of the bed tan and pale yellow. Natalia nodded her head, content, laying a robe on the bed before walking out the door. He smiled a bit, pleased she cared enough to stock his room.

"Toris."

He turned, seeing her in his door way. She looked a bit worried. "Yeah, Natalia?"

"You… Do like the color green, right?" The question caught him off guard. He stared at her for a moment, before a smile came across his face. "Yes. It's my favorite color."

He had no idea why he was up so late, but he felt the need to explore. He walked in the great hallways, the cathedral ceilings making him feel small and insignificant, the grand paintings and photos making it seem almost like a castle. He passed one, larger than the rest, which consisted of Natalia, Ivan, and then Katyusha, in Victorian clothing in front of the old castle where Anastasia lived. He saw that on the ceiling was a large, extended painting, one he'd never seen before. He was simply amazed at the extravagance of her home, the large windows covered in velvet drapes, and the moon light giving the place a haunting allure. He walked, and walked, his green eyes scanning every nook and cranny of the place he was staying.

She was like a ghost. One of those ones you see in haunted house movies, of a beautiful woman who was killed in the house by her jealous husband… He shook his head, clearing his mind of such trivial thoughts.  
"What are you doing up, Toris?" He looked up, seeing that she'd moved to lean near the window, the moonlight cascading onto her silver blonde hair. Toris could hardly breathe.

"I… Wanted to see the rest of your home, It's beautiful.."

Natalia watched him, scratching at an itch on her upper thigh. She walked around the house every three hours between bed time and breakfast, usually staying in her "pajamas" until Peter began to stir. She nodded her head, continuing her walking, the frills on the hem of her nighty flitting flirtatiously around her legs. They were long and slender, pale like her arms and neck and lips-

"Natalia~." Toris whined, wrapping his arms around her small frame. She jumped, turning to face him, her hand shooting towards the knife in her garter belt. Toris reacted quicker, grabbing her wrists and holding them with a single hand.  
"You damn bastard… What the Hell are you thinking?" She spat, jerking to and fro to escape the grasp on her. No matter how much she fought, he was awkwardly stronger than her, and he proved effortlessly in the moment. She tried to bite him; he moved a single muscle and she was thrown off balance, biting her tongue to the point it bled. "What… Are you going to do?" She whispered, more pleadingly in fear than anger. He nuzzled her cheek, his tongue sneaking to taste the corner of her mouth. He grinned at the sharp shudder that echoed through her body. He dragged her away, kicking and fighting and screaming.

Natalia curled up on her side, her hair falling to mingle with salty tears pouring down her cheeks. Toris was in the large bed next to her, the tapestry a rosy pink and the bed sheets darker. The floor was white alabaster, and the furniture was a dark mahogany wood.

_Sestra's room._

"Toris." She mumbled, to keep her voice controlled. He rolled over, looking at her over her own shoulder.

"Yes, Natalia?" She didn't look at him at all, only stood up and began to dress herself.

"Get back to your room." The words were cold and simple, marked with anger. Toris was a bit angered by her ability to dismiss him so easily.

"No, I'm not listening to you anymore!" He shouted, full of rage he'd never been able to verbalize before. The look she gave him when she turned first made him happy, full of glee and excitement; but then her expression changed to terror as she looked beyond him. Toris turned around, to be met with the tall, bulky frame of a not-so-happy Ivan Braginsky. Ivan's usual childish smile was replaced with one of anger and loathing.

"I-Ivan…" Toris stammered, incapable of aborting through his crazed head what was going on. Natalia had rooms. Enough for the Soviet Union. His was green, his favorite color. Her's was dark blue, her favorite color. Pink is Katyusha's… So there was probably a red one somewhere for Ivan.

"Vanya, do not look so surprised." Natalia said, fixing the bow in her hair. She began to fix her stocking. "It was only a matter of time before it happened. You said so yourself."

Toris looked back at her, a look of confusion coming over his features. Natalia walked past Ivan, dragging Toris behind her.

"Where are we going?" He asked, checking behind him to make sure Ivan was not chasing them.

"Well, where do you expect? My room. Now shut up." Toris tore his hand from her, causing her to stop and look at him in annoyance. "Why are we going to your room?"

She rolled her eyes, grabbing his hand and pulling him to a side, away from eyes and ears. She placed his hand around her waist, grabbing his hair and pulling him into a kiss. He pushed himself against her body, his free hand pressing against her breast. She bit his lip, pulling back before letting go.

"Now, to my room."


End file.
